


you are the sun, and I am the moon (and we will never collide)

by dreamtowns



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Character Death, Depression, Gen, Grief, Not Much Romance, Somewhat, but it is still there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 09:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7613566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamtowns/pseuds/dreamtowns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith was always chasing after those that he loved. He chased after his parents, his sisters, and the little group of friends he once had but could never keep. The things he loved always slipped away from his grasp by little happenstances — a car crash, a doctorate degree, something that was bigger and better and Not Keith — and he had tirelessly trudged after them despite knowing it to be hopeless. Lance had danced his way into Keith’s world, and Keith found himself beginning another inevitable chase. </p>
<p>Lance was Keith’s sun, and Keith was Lance’s moon.</p>
<p>Chasing after one another for eternity, never stopping, only running, and wising that for once, just for a little while, if they could collide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are the sun, and I am the moon (and we will never collide)

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Voltron: Legendary Defenders, and it belongs to its’ creators. No money is being made from this fictional work. No copyright infringement intended. Also, if you haven’t read my tags: Pidge’s pronouns are she/her. And I apologize for any errors. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**i. you are the sun**

Keith became an orphan on his tenth birthday. It was an ordinary day, nothing particularly outstanding, and Keith had almost forgotten it was his birthday. He wasn’t one for celebrations but his mother had left to get his father from the airport, and his grandparents were making his favorite foods. His two older sisters — Kiyoko and Sawako — had come home from their universities, congratulating him on “reaching the big digits!”

He could safely say that he was content, but there was barely a word from his parents. The older members did their best to keep the day jubilant and festive, but Keith had sharp eyes and took careful note of the tightness in his grandmothers’ mouth, of the way his siblings murmured to one another, of the way his grandfather got up every thirty minutes to look out the driveway. His favorite foods that night tasted like ash in his mouth, and maybe that’s what ticked him off.

 Keith remembers that he started crying once he ate his dinner. The others were alarmed at his reaction, their voices climbing over one another as they tried to soothe him and ask what was wrong. The lasagna tasted like ash and salt on his tongue, and Keith’s tears hadn’t ceased. His ten-year-old self had known that something was _wrong_ , that the whole day was _wrong_ , but Keith was never one for words and so he cried while eating something that tasted like death.

Around eight in the afternoon, policemen knocked on his front door with solemn eyes and pursed lips, and delivered the news of his parents’ death.

Keith’s world went downhill from there.

**ii. and i am the moon**

His psychologist called it grief and depression. All Keith knew was that, sometimes, it was too hard to breathe, too difficult to move, too exhausting to speak, too troublesome to do anything except lie in his bed and wish for the world to stop moving. The world moved since his parent’s death because Keith’s parents were only two people in the big picture — in the end, their lives didn’t matter because everyone will die. No one is immortal.

It didn’t matter to the world that Mia Kogane was a pediatrician, and that she donated to homeless shelters worldwide, or that she’d sing whenever she baked. The world didn’t care that Sora Kogane was a History Professor, and that he would only eat jelly-filled donuts, or that he’d wake up his son at six in the morning to watch Saturday morning cartoons.

The world barely took note of the way they’d died — an incoming truck driver didn’t pay attention to where they were going, and collided with them on the way back from the airport.

They were simply two more graves added into the graveyard.  

His siblings had stuck around for a week after the funeral but had to go back for the semester. Keith understood, and he didn’t mind. His siblings were running away, and it meant two less people asking him, “how are you feeling?”

Keith drifted through the years, living with his grandparents, and found himself chasing after others’. He chased after trailing backs and fading silhouettes. The few friends he obtained soon drifted away from him, irritated with his monosyllabic replies and the way he never wished to do anything. Keith didn’t mind but he still smiled at them whenever they passed by in the hallways.

His teachers looked at him with pity shining in their eyes, and they whispered to their colleagues of how unfortunate his life was. “Too lose his parents so young,” they would murmur. “How tragic.” His classmates would ignore him sooner or later, for he was known as “that quiet kid” or “the kid that barely spoke”, though there was an honorable question once asked: “who the hell is Keith?”

Keith was forgettable. He was erasable. He blended in with the shadows and silhouettes of others that didn’t wish to be known.

His grandparents, predictably, grew concerned when Keith spent more time in his own bed than outside with friends. Years after his parents’ death had passed, and they were wondering why he never moved on, why he _couldn’t_. Keith found himself in unfamiliar offices that specialized in helping teens going through traumatic experiences. Those offices just reminded Keith of his mothers’, and how it always smelled like candy but not nauseously so, and thinking of his mother made Keith’s thoughts turn to his father, and how they carried their quiet, passionate love for one another into the afterlife.

Three years had passed since their death, and Kiyoko had graduated magna cum laude. His grandparents threw a party for her achievements, and Keith spent most of it on the armchair in the living room, reading a book. He could never focus on the words, his mind drifting to thoughts of _wonder what our parents would think of this_.

“So, Keith,” Sawako asked him that night. Sawako and their grandparents were in the kitchen, pouring drinks with clinking glasses. “How’s school?”

“Good,” Keith said, turning the page of his book. He didn’t grasp what had happened in the storyline, his thoughts too focused on topics that were making his heart weep in his chest.

Sawako hummed. “Do you have any friends?”

“I used to,” Keith replied. His new batch of friends had left, one by one, a few weeks ago but Keith was already used to classmates leaving him behind for something shinier, better.

Sawako frowned. “What happened?”

The edge of Keith’s lips twitched, as though a smile wanted to blossom, but it’d been three years since Keith had smiled. He doesn’t know if he’s capable anymore.

“They grew bored,” Keith said, echoing words he’d said to his guidance counselor. “They always grow bored.”

Sawako grew quiet and didn’t bother him for the rest of the night. That was fine with Keith, because his thoughts were making his head spin, and his heart ache, and his limbs too heavy.

Keith enters the eighth grade friendless, and the world is pressing down on his shoulders. It proves to be a troubling year because classmates came back meaner, with sharper tongues and claws. Keith finds himself a target of meaningless pranks — his erasers get stolen, his homework begins to disappear from his folders, his lunch money taken by classmates with heavy scowls — and the list continues to grow. Rumors of him begin to circulate, and when he’s tripped on the way to class, giggles echo in all directions.

“Watch where you’re going, Kogane,” people sneer.

Keith could only sigh, could only pick himself up off the floor, dust himself off, and head to class. It took too much energy to care of what other people thought of him. It was too much to care, to retaliate, because, in the end, everyone will leave and those bullies will find themselves getting consumed whole by the Real World.

His teachers stop thinking of him as “tragic” and more along the lines of “problematic” as he enters class late or doesn’t turn in homework on time. Keith knows that they’re unaware of the viciousness of children, and it’s too exhausting to take the time to explain to them _why_ he was late or _why_ he didn’t have last night’s homework.

Keith found everything to be exhausting nowadays.

(wouldn’t it be better if he disappeared, too?)

**iii. but, darling, i’ll give you the stars**

“Pick on someone your own size, assholes!”

The boy in front of him is puffed up in a righteous fury. Keith was still trying to process what was going on — he was leaving the school library and found himself getting pulled from behind, getting dragged to the side of the school where the security camera never works, and facing the violent classmates hell-bent on making him suffer _just because_ — and had found himself curling up on the ground. Keith’s ears were ringing when his savior came hollering out of nowhere.

The bullies scowled and moved away, knowing that the boy wasn’t afraid of swinging fists.

Keith blinked, dazed, and stared at the sky. The clouds made weird shapes, and the sky was a peculiar periwinkle. _Mom loves looking at the sky,_ Keith thought, feeling that familiar pang grip his heart, squeeze his lungs. Tears prickled his eyes. _Dad would make stories for the clouds._ He blinked again when a boy entered his line of vision.

“You okay?” he asked. “I saw them hurting you and – well – I saw red. So, you alright?”

“Y-yeah,” Keith murmured. Most classmates just stared at him or whispered about him, despite the fact that he was _right there_ , and no one bothered to help him. Keith didn’t care about receiving aid from Samaritans.

It took a lot for Keith to care.

The boy grinned. The smile was cheerful and exuberant, and it made Keith’s eyes hurt because he remembered someone who smiled like that, remembered a woman who had a smile that was like the sun. “Good,” he said. “I’m Lance. Lance Romero — I think we have the same mythology class together.”

Keith blinked.

“You should talk more,” Lance said as-matter-of-factly. Keith blinked and sat up. Who was this kid? Why was he still _there_? Why didn’t he leave? Everyone leaves, in the end. Lance’s smile grew. “You have a pretty voice, Keith.”

Since that day, Lance stuck by Keith’s side. Whenever the bell rang, Lance was there, waiting. They walked to class together, and walked home together. Lance had even cajoled Keith into going to the arcade one night before a final exam. “You need to loosen up,” Lance had said. “If you aren’t outside your house by three, I swear Keith, I _will_ bring my boom box and play Britney Spears!”

Keith went.

It was exhausting, and Keith’s mind wandered too much, and the noise was overwhelming, but Lance’s touch always brought him back to the present. His laugh pulled Keith away from his depressive thoughts, and his exuberance almost made Keith want to smile. Almost.  Lance knew the arcade owners — Allura Altea and Takashi Shirogane. Originally, it belonged to Allura’s father but he had passed it down to his daughter upon his death, and she managed it with Takashi, her fiancé, and her Great Uncle, Coran.

“So you’re Keith,” Allura said upon meeting him. Mischief brimmed in her eyes. “Lance doesn’t shut up about you.”

“A-Allura!” Lance yelped, scandalized.

 Dryly, Keith said, “He doesn’t shut up in general.”

“Keith!”

Allura’s booming laughter echoed through the arcade. “I like you, kid,” she laughed. “Lance, this one’s a keeper.”

With his ears burning, Lance pulled Keith away. “Let’s go play some table hockey.”

“What’s that?”

“What?! You _don’t know what table hockey is?!_ ”

Keith blinked, ignoring the way his ears hurt by the shriek. “I don’t get out much.”

Lance huffed, even more scandalized than before. “Clearly.”

His grandparents were ecstatic that he had a friend. “We were getting worried, you know,” his grandmother said, smiling over the bowl of peas. “You’ve barely brought a friend over.”

Keith hummed, not really knowing if Lance considered him a friend or a charity case.

Four years after his parents died, Keith found it a little easier to breathe. Sawako obtained her PhD in Psychology, and Kiyoko had gotten married, and was now preparing for her first child. Lance pulled him out of the house and protected him against the bullies that sneered. His therapist told him that he was moving forward, and that he should be proud of this fact.

“You’re learning how to live again,” she told him, smiling. “It’s going to be okay, Keith. The important thing here is that you’re _breathing_ , you’re _okay_ , you’re _alive_.”

The words: _even if they aren’t_ is heavy in the air.

Four years and seventeen days, Lance introduced another person into their little world of two. Katie “Call me Pidge” Holt is fourteen and taking no one’s shit. Intelligent enough to have passed grades, and develop her own tech from spare pieces, Pidge is settling into the life of a sophomore perfectly.

“It’s weird,” she said when Lance questioned her about “the high school life”. “I’m in the same school as my brother.”

“How’d you two know each other?” Keith asked. He was getting better at talking even though Lance talked enough for the two of them.

“We met in the second grade,” Lance said. “We’re also neighbors.”

“Don’t let his looks fool you,” Pidge warned Keith. “He’s a menace to society!”

“Pidge!” Lance cried. “I thought you loved me?”

An odd pang hit his chest, and Keith furrowed his eyebrows. Pidge rolled her eyes. “You’re the brother I never wanted.”

“Oi!”

Their laughter made Keith want to laugh but he hasn’t laughed in four years and seventeen days. He hasn’t smiled in that long either. Keith doesn’t know if he remembers how to do those things either. Sometimes, in the dead of the night, when the vice grip on his heart and lungs grow more pronounced, Keith would ponder on questions. Was it alright if he smiled? Laughed? Lived? Breathed? His parents died on his birthday, so was it okay to move on when they’re rotting corpses?

Keith can’t remember the sight of his mother’s smile or his father’s laughter.

Their faces are fading from his memory but the agony, the pain, the _nothingness_ lingered. It won’t leave. Those negative emotions haunt Keith with every waking moment. Sometimes, when the sprawling pain proves to be too much for him to handle, Keith has to remind himself that there are people in his life that would miss him, that would mourn for him, so even if he wanted to find ways to end his pain, he should live for those people.

(though, during those nights, Keith also wonders, _is it worth it? Am I worth it?_ )

**iv. because i love you**

Five years and twelve days found Keith entering high school with someone he could proudly call: his best friend. His “episodes” as his grandparents called it, had simmered down somewhat. Lance, by being himself, had brightened Keith’s day.

Upon the eve of their freshman year, Lance had turned to him with burning eyes. “This year, Keith Kogane,” Lance promised. “I will make you smile.”

Keith blinked. “You do that.”

“You think I’m joking!” Lance continued. “Well, kind sir, I kid you not! I will make Keith Kogane smile this year! I will!”

Pidge, whom was tapping away on her tablet, snickered to herself. “Ah, to be in love.”

Keith, used to those comments from her and Allura, ignored the world around him and focused on memorizing the shortcuts to his classes.

The start of high school is something Keith didn’t care about. Lance was all about changing his image, and shedding his past skin. Keith had crinkled his nose at Lance and said, “Why would you change? I like you as you are.”

Pidge had almost broken a rib as she laughed at the way Lance’s ears turned red.

Keith still couldn’t find it in him to care about school subjects, or summer jobs, or finding a high school sweetheart. Most days, he was still struggling to breathe and get out of bed. Lance helped him somewhat, but there were things that were too hard to break. Kiyoko had a little girl, whom she named Mia in memory of their mother.

Keith can’t look his niece in the eye.

Mia 2.0 is fragile, breakable, and Keith is terrified that she will slip through his fingers ( _like everyone else in your life_ ). His therapist would tell him to ignore that voice in his head, ignore those depressing thoughts, but it’s difficult when Keith knows that they speak the truth. It’s difficult to ignore them when they get louder and louder inside of his mind.

Five years and sixty-four days have passed, and Keith ends up meeting another friendly face in the crowd. Hunk Garrett is a sophomore in Keith’s foreign language class, and they met when they had to partner for a project. Lance and Hunk hit it off immediately, as though they were long-lost brothers, and Pidge only sighed, “I’m surrounded by boys,” but, otherwise, welcomed him into the fold.

Despite his progress, once the calendar marks five years and ninety-three days, Keith is drowning. His lungs feel as though it’s collapsing in itself, his heart is getting pulled in too many directions, and there is a lead ball dragging him down to the dark depths of no return. Tears stained his face, and Keith wanted to cry some more, but he’s out of tears. He’s cried himself out. His limbs tremble, and there’s a growing ball in his throat.

Sawako Kogane died five years and ninety-two days after their parents.

Lance discovered him, two days later, underneath a pile of blankets. His fan whirred in the background, creating white noise to the agony Keith felt. He heard his door opening and closing but Keith was still trying to find it in him to breathe. For a little bit, Keith had fooled himself. For a short, sweet moment, Keith thought that he could forget what death tasted like.

(but he couldn’t because death tasted like ash and salt on his tongue)

“Scoot,” Lance murmured, wiggling underneath the covers. They laid there, side by side, elbows and wrists and legs and hips touching, in silence. Keith could hear the sounds of Mia 2.0 wailing, and some of Sawako’s friends speaking to one another in low tones. If he strained, Keith could hear his grandmother weeping to herself over another family member getting buried too young.

“What are you doing here?” Keith whispered. His throat burned.

“You need me,” Lance said.

Keith sniffled. Lance wasn’t wrong. Keith couldn’t stand looking at Kiyoko because Kiyoko and Sawako were identical twins. His grandparents reminded him of his own parents, and Kiyoko reminded him of Sawako.

(don’t you know? _Everyone leaves in the end_ )

“Why are you here, Lance?” Keith asked, though his voice cracked. “Why haven’t you _left yet_?”

Lance gripped his hand. “I won’t leave, Keith. I _won’t_.”

Dry laughter bubbles in Keith’s throat. He can’t remember the sound of his own laugh. “Everyone leaves me, Lance,” he said. _“Everyone_.”

“I’m not everyone,” Lance replied simply, as though they were discussing pizza toppings. “I’m _Lance_.”

Keith sobbed against Lance’s shoulder, and Lance let him.

**v. and i will watch you shine**

( _will you miss me, if I go?)_

_(always.)_

**vi. even if we can never collide**

_because everyone leaves in the end._

 

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr: yourdreamingunderthestars.tumblr.com


End file.
